


Felow Associate

by bela013



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: A collection of fics about a tremere neonate, and the regent of her new chantry in Los Angeles.
Relationships: Maximillian Strauss/Original Tremere Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

He didn't scream. But the tone of his voice shifted and she was back into feeling pathetic. The study would have been a contorting place any other time. Now she just tried to focus of tilting down her head, so she could hide her tear stained face.

"You should have warned me about your trip to Chinatown.", he takes one look at her, and starts pacing along the study.

"I'm sorry." crying used to be messy enough as a human, now that her tears are all but blood, she didn't want to imagine what her face looked like. One tear falls to her skirt and stains it, she bites back a desperate sob.

"Your one saving grace, is that you informed me about the scatterbrain plan of invading a Giovanni party, of all things.", she catches a glimpse of his eyes from behind the glasses. It all crashes down around her. She starts crying in earnest about the panic that builds up inside her head.

She isn't sure how long she spends sobbing her eyes and blood out, before a small bump in her arm makes her gasp for the air she doesn't need, and a handkerchief is waved in front of her face. It all seems so absurd, that she accepts it and tries to wipe the bloody mess of her face. All the while, Strauss is standing two feet away from her place at the sofa, still as a statue, watching her.

From her angle, she could see his eyes perfectly. Maybe they weren't as judgmental as she thought they were. No. They were curious. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse. She wasn't interested in being pulled apart to appease his curiosity.

"The prince ordered me to get the sarcophagus", his look doesn't change. He doesn't rush her. "I don't know what he will do if I don't follow his orders."

"I am your regent.", his displeasure with the prince was already known by her. It was written all over his face. "You're on house arrest until I say otherwise." 

"He can execute me!", her fear was back tenfold.

"I allowed this to go on long enough. He has no power on my chantry. Stay here and study with the other apprentices. As neonates should.", there was a hard set in his jaw. "I will fix this Giovanni mess", he leaves the study in a flurry of red fabric, it would have been an impressive sight if she hadn't started to cry again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished 2 long fics, and I was burning to put all my feelings for Strauss to word. But this is just me shooting canon in the face, and having fun with Strauss as a Tremere Daddy.


	2. Chapter 2

That thing offended her. Bright red, badly cut. If she could, she would disappear with that coat, and all the others he had just like that. She was trying to pay attention to what he was saying, but it was difficult. He was just going on and on about a book. The boring topic only made her lose her focus and fixate on the monstrosity he wore.

She leaned back onto his sofa, and he paced the study. The fireplace cast long shadows. That orange glow would have looked magnificent on a solid black suit. Even that ugly tie would have managed to look good over a dark grey shirt.

"Why does it feel like you're undressing me with your eyes, neonate?", she laughed at his insight. It wasn't always that he could interpret the look on her face. How fortunate that he picked that particular look to understand.

"Probably because I'm thinking of tearing off your clothes, and burning them.", she laughs again at his indignant frown. "No, don't look like that. I promise not to take advantage of you. I'll just need you out of those clothes for a while."

"This is a highly inappropriate, neonate." and yet, he steps closer to her, and allows for her hand to hold onto his hand. How many times did they have variations of this conversation? They always ended up like this. So very close, and yet, not close enough.

"I was only interested in giving you a new change of clothes. Anything else, was because you were thinking about it too much.", she kisses his hand, and sighs in pleasure when he places the same hand against her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect a consistent timeline.


	3. Chapter 3

He sees her at Lacroix Tower. And he couldn't immediately recognize her. Gone was the fear that clung to her whole persona. The neonate stood at the doorway of the Prince's office. Almost a head taller than Lacroix, and an impossibly arrogant look about her. Even he, had to admire the sharp cut of her clothes. But he couldn't shake off the feelings that she didn't quite belong among his clan. Something at the edge of her aura didn't fit.

Her eyes follow his movements, and she does dip her head in greeting. He sees the prince's face curl at her before the doors close behind him. It was beyond him why Lacroix would place such a target on a neonate. It showed immaturity. Most neonate didn't make it past their early years, worrying about one that wasn't your direct responsibility was a waste of time.

It has been said that Lacroix sent her to Hollywood, and yet, here she was. The neonate seamed stuck between the arrogant persona she presented Lacroix, and the nervous woman she was in his presence. He was quite tired of her mood swings, so he sits down to watch her. She doesn't fidget. Her fear is silent. He could smell it on her.

"There was something in Hollywood. The baron offered me compensation to investigate it.", she wasn't his responsibility per say. She was turned outside the pyramid, and her sire wasn't one of his. But she was here, and if he had to suffer her, would instill proper etiquette in her. One conversation at a time. He lets her stew in his silence. He refused to reward her with acknowledgement if she wouldn't get to the point. "But I don't think it belongs to him. He said there's a gargoyle at the Asian Theater."

He sits up straighter. No sense in playing games. She wouldn't come straight to him if she didn't knew something. Her eyes are fixed on his hands, as if waiting for punishment.

"I didn't enter the theater. But I could feel them from the gates. Their magic was like the one in the chantry." her shoulders sag as he sighs in resignation. Trust the neonate, who seemed to attract chaos, to be able to spot the little things.

"And what of it, neonate?" at least she brought it straight to him, and not the Baron or maybe the Prince. 

"Should I do as Abrams wanted then? Aren't they yours?", before he has the time to analyze it, his hand is in his coat pocket, and he is handling his private amulet to the neonate.

"I have no need for a protector for the chantry who runs away the first chance it gets. Use this, and kill it.", slowly, she reaches for the amulet, and he almost wraps his hand around hers to make sure she knows how important the amulet is.

"Abrams jokingly said he wanted to recruit them, but he didn't think it was possible.", the amulet sits at her neck, snug between her cleavage and the silk material of her shirt. She almost looks like a proper Tremere.

"I doubt it would want anything to do with anyone of Tremere blood. Exercise your cunning and try to convince it if you think you can. But have it destroyed if it moves to attack you. The amulet will help you." It's a dismissal, but she lingers, waiting for something. "What is it?"

"I used to be a ghoul before all this. I learned the proper etiquette to another clan, so I apologize for not knowing what I should do before leaving." He is both surprised at her words and confused. It was the last piece of the puzzle of how she didn't particularly fit. But he also had no idea what she meant by proper etiquette.

"What clan was your master?" His tongue itched to ask about what she used to do before leaving said master.

"Toreador" That only answered some of his questions.

"You may simply go, neonate. There is much to be done in Hollywood.", and questions to interrogate her with, when she comes back from the Gargoyle mess. He might simply drag her back, if only to have her satisfy his curiosity, if she takes too long fending off the ego of Barons and Princes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a fine line in writting Strauss, because while I believe he is very proper, no one is a vampire in the WoD universe for so long without being a bit weird.


	4. Chapter 4

The sight of the gargoyle is impressive. The moment she steps out of the shadowed entryway, into the theater more fully, into the view of the stone guardian, they drop down from their spot at the open roof. In a way, even with their carved stone face, fanged mouth, and the ever longing presence of Strauss' magic, the idea of disappointing the regent was scariest. So she smiles at the marvel of their construct, the wonder of a moving stone.

"Kindred invader" they threaten her further, but after listening to their voice, she is fascinated. Her smile grows at the idea that their voice was gravelly. For sure, she would get crushed over a silly pun.

"Ah, wait! I'm here to talk!", luckily, she has the presence of mind to say something once they raise their massive hand against her.

"No talking! No more lies and schemes from you abominations!"

"I come in peace. I have an offer from…" she balks at having a name to Strauss. She wasn't sure how gargoyles were made. He didn't explain to her, so she wasn't confident how to speak of him to what could he his creation, or an enslaved being.

"What offer? Who wants to control me, to enslave me, like my master before him?", that complicated things. She didn't want to fight them, but they wouldn't accept Strauss so easily.

"The offer is mine! And I don't want to control you. I want protection." and she did. She needed protection. She needed at least one monster to be on her side. She opens the top button of her blouse and pulls out the amulet. "I need protection"

They identify the amulet for what it was, and what she is in the grand scheme of things. The stone face shifts as they lean closer to her.

"Your master gave me this amulet. For protection. But it isn't enough. I'm not part of the chantry, and there is only so much he can and is willing to do for me" she pushed their stone hand away when they try to reach for the amulet. They make a mournful sound.

"Do you want me to crush him for you?"

"No!" she steps away from them, more upset by the idea then she thought she would be. "If you could hurt him, you would have done it already." they also step away from her, as if she delivered a blow to their body.

"What do you want?" she tucks the amulet back underneath her blouse, their magic warm against her skin.

"I want the same thing you want. I want protection. But my protection is at the chantry, and I have to prove myself to be allowed in."

"There is no protection at the chantry!" they rage, but not at her. They punch a wooden beam and the theater shakes. 

"There is! But only if you come with me." with uncertain steps, she approaches them, and places a hand in their arm. The stone is as warm as the amulet. Strauss' presence is all around her. In the magic of the things that could potentially kill and protect her. "Let me protect you, from the Hollywood baron, and from Strauss' disappointment. But I need you to come with me and help me find a protection for myself!"

"Why would I help someone I don't know?"

"Everything in this fucking city wants to kill me. If you were going to, you would have done it already." she reaches for their hands, a gamble. They could crush her fingers, but they allow her to hold them. "You want peace. I can offer you peace. Back in the chantry, with me."

"I won't serve my old master"

"But will you protect him and the chantry?"

"If that is what you want." their voice was lower now, no more booming voice, no more anger. They looked at her, in the same way Strauss looked at her, with naked curiosity.

"Now, how are we going to move a 7 foot statue to Downtown without being seen?" she hears it, before she sees it. The sound of stones moving, gravel falling to the floor. Then the shifting wind, as two massive wings open behind the gargoyle. Their look shift as well, gone was the armor, and in place, was a gargoyle that wouldn't look out of place on top of the chantry. "I didn't think that was possible."

"I can fly us there.", a stone arm wraps itself around her middle and hoist her into the air, and that's already too much for her. 

"Absolutely not! I am taking a cab there, like a normal person! I refuse to–!" she is cut off when they push themselves off the ground and fly them to the top of the theater. She has the presence of mind to not scream and call attention to the moving gargoyle on the top of the building. But she does whimper in horror, and clings to their body, when they take flight over Hollywood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing with this fic, is that, to get to some Strauss smut, first you have to read this type of bullshit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW. Mentions of vomit. Nothing serious, but it's there.

Neonate looked like she would have vomited all over his foyer if she was able. The only thing keeping her upright was the gargoyle that occupied almost all the room with its wings. She clutched its stone arms in a vice like grip. He was silently grateful for all the years he spent pushing and punishing his gargoyle about discretion, because it used the old entryway in the chantry, and since no one was screaming outside, it was safe to say that they were not seen.

It was not something he expected to happen. Finding his gargoyle back, of its own volition. If anything, it was the neonate who looked like she had been dragged back. The sight of it, holding her with great care, was also unexpected. It never behaved like that. It could barely tolerate him, and it only had contempt for the other members of the chantry. 

"I'm back" said the neonate, in a pitiful voice as she tried to stand on shaky legs. "We're back"

"So I see", the gargoyle didn't growl at him, but it was close. It stood exactly behind her, as if trying to hide behind a woman almost 2 feet shorter.

"I don't like flying" she doubled over, and dry heaved until a thin line of blood dribbled down her chin. He couldn't find it in himself to judge her too harshly about it. She exceeded expectations with the gargoyle. And he never enjoyed flying very much himself. It made him wonder if the gargoyle flew with her in the same passive aggressive way it did with him.

"You'll be able to rest soon. I have a room that you can use. But first, give me your report." her lip quivered, but at least her eyes were not as unfocused as before.

"Gargoyle back." maybe that task was a bit above her ability at the moment. Or maybe the lack of bloody vomit on his carpet, was due to an empty stomach. Or, flying really didn't agree with her. Either way, he steps closer, and wipes the blood off her chin with a handkerchief. The gargoyle looks down at him from over her head.

"I serve her. She is my master now." the gargoyle made a low noise as the neonate petted their arm, almost like a giant cat. Pleased to be underneath her control. He wondered how she managed that, not only to get its loyalty, but also its affection.

He held the now clean chin of the neonate in his hand, and tilted her head for him to look at her eyes, pupils blown wide, and unfocused. She was barely awake. He takes his hand away, and both her and the gargoyle move forward, both using him as a focal point. The feeling of being the one magical being in the room in the possession of his full faculties was interesting.

"Take her to her room" he turns to the gargoyle, and stop mid order to look at the picture they made together. If it was to serve her, it will have to bow to him. With a gargoyle under her control, he will finally have a case to have her installed into the chantry and the pyramid. The fact that it was  _ his _ gargoyle was no one's business but theirs. But to him, it was disconcerting to have what was basically a physical manifestation of his magic draped over her, with a level of possessiveness and affection.

The neonate turns to him, with a look he had yet to see on her face. A wide smile, foolish looking. No one would be able to say the things she has done, if she looked at them with that smile. His own lips twitch in his own version of a smile. He half expected her to die, and now he had not one, but two novelties in his chantry, under his command.

"Put her at the old rooms behind the library, and stay with her, until I come for you both. I'll have blood for her, and a task for you"

"I serve her."

"And you will serve her better by obeying me, and protecting this chantry" it nuzzles the top of her head to avoid his stare, but it obeys by dragging her away, as she waves at him in farewell.

Like they had before, he almost follows them, never mind his orders. The library rooms used to be his before he bought the building behind the chantry and expanded. There was room for the gargoyle to stand without breaking anything, and a privacy that he wished to grant her in her moment of weakness. It was an extra care that she was yet to earn, but it could be explained due to the practicality of keeping the gargoyle with her. Never mind that of all the apprentices, her bedroom would put her the closest to him physically.

In his own rooms, he is quick to find the blood bags for her, and on his way out, he picks the throw he keeps over his bed for her. Something to keep her in the new rooms. It wasn't overly absurd of him. All the members of his chantry were under his protection, and care. He could easily rationalize this. He could even rationalize how he found the gargoyle cradling her to its chest in her new rooms. He only needed an extra time to find a logical explanation for that.

He doesn't need words with the gargoyle, all he needs is to place the blood bags on her hands, and cover her legs with the throw. The gargoyle does its job of guarding her. Maximilian allows himself a moment to stare at her, and when he almost reaches out to touch the amulet he sees at her neck, he forces himself to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

He woke up with a start. With a glance at the bedside clock, he lies back down. This was normal. Ever since he became a regent, and was responsible for his own chantry, this would happen. 

13:12

Slowly, he makes his way out of bed, and find his robe. A gift from one of the apprentices many years ago. He wonders if they know that he does this.

13:28

There was a system to it. He starts by the closest one. Neonate's room was right across the corridor. So he simply crosses it, and wait for a sign of noise before opening the door. From the door, all he can see is the shape of her across the floor, books around her, and the dark blue throw he had given her on her first night at the chantry. Of her, the only thing visible, is a tuft of dark hair. He closes the door.

13:36

He goes across the unused kitchen, and up the service stairs. But not before looking at the closed off back entrance. His protection sigil was safely in place. It was high time they converted the kitchen into something useful. Maybe a secondary library. They always needed some extra room for that.

13:43

On the second floor, the work of checking on the apprentices is faster. Long ago, they got tired of his propensity of forgetting their names, and assigned themselves numbers. 3 and 4, share a common room between their rooms, and each was properly in their bed, as usual. Number 1 was on the sofa, in the upstairs study room. Their short legs thrown over the recliner. He finds their coat, and throws it over them before leaving.

13:59

Number 2, like a good apprentice, in is bed, with a book tucked underneath their chin. Nevermind that they also had their headphones on, and he could hear the music all the way from the door. 5, is at their room, and the cat they acquired recently is laying on top of the covers. The cat only lifts it's head to hiss at him, before he closes the door.

14:09

He makes all the way across the chantry and comes up to the front room stairs. The gargoyle is sitting right in front of the door, and it was instructed to do, many years ago. It doesn't turn to look at him. This was routine between them. As he passes by the gargoyle, he reaches to touch their head. The neonate, and then, the apprentices took to doing this. Treating the gargoyle as they do the cat. He pats their head, and is rewarded with a noise that would probably be the equivalent of purr for a 7 foot tall statue.

14:12

He is almost at his room, when the door to the Neonate's room open, and she stands at the threshold looking at him with bleary eyes.

"Something wrong?" it was interesting to see such a well kept woman, so vain, with her hair a tangled mess at the top of her head.

"I'm just checking on the others. Go back to sleep, Neonate." she gives him a tired smile.

"Good night, daddy."

"It isn't night, Neonate." she closes the door, and he replays her whole sentence in his head. "Wait.", her door was already closed, and he has force himself not to knock on it, and demand that she explain herself. He was quite tired of her saying something and leaving him to deal with the confusion.

14:24

He drags himself back to him room, and lies down in bed. It wouldn't be the first time he stayed awake thinking about something she said, trying to find meaning to her words. And knowing her, it wouldn't be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up early and the idea wouldn't leave me alone.


	7. Chapter 7

The first time she was invited to the chantry, she wasn't yet used to interacting with vampires that weren't her old Toreador master. So she does what used to gain her favor with him. She dresses up to the nines, and pops open the top button of her blouse. The shade of her lipstick is of the same burgundy of her overcoat.

It backfires spectacularly. Strauss looks down at her cleavage for exactly one second, and it only makes him give her a condescending look. If she wasn't intimidated by him, she would've been angry. That type of men always made her blood boil. She lowers her head in deference and go do some investigation for him.

Strauss truly was intimidating. Her old master was like an over indulgent grandfather, compared to him. When she goes deliver her findings, he waves away her theories, she thinks about kissing his cheek and nibbling at his ear. It always worked before. But somehow, as she explains the things she saw, the cult, the sickness, the structured organization of that chaos, his temperament sours. She feels it in the room. The flames of the fireplace flicker out. An illusion losing its power. The room darken and for a second, all she sees is his eyes, a bright light through the red lens of his glasses. It's burgundy.

The fireplace comes back to life, and his eyes are a dull shade of brown. A lie. A mask of control, for the magic she feels in the air, oppressive, crushing. She feels it all around him, around the chantry. No matter the others in the building. All she can feel, is his magic. It's him. He dismissed her with a nod of his head, and she almost takes a step forward. She had been a ghoul for almost thirty years. It was hard to shake up the teachings of an old life. She used to be a prized pet, and her old master had trained her relentlessly. If the memory of his silent rage wasn't so fresh in her mind, she would have kissed the corner of his lip like a good little ghoul before leaving. Her lipstick would have matched his burgundy eyes.

She bites back her pride, and lowers her eyes before leaving. Her hands shake. Once the front door closes behind her, she practically stumbles to the taxi stop. With a taste of his presence, his magic, she knows the why of his disdain. She is nothing compared to those at the chantry. An old taxi stops for her, and one look at the driver, and she takes a step back. A bus would be better than whatever that was. She wasn't in the mood for that type of nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Chapter 8

She hated Hollywood. The one good thing in the whole city, fled it a couple of nights before on stone wings. Her stomach rolled in revulsion at the movie playing in the TV. She was nearly seventy, and she managed to go that far without having to see a snuff movie. Her streak of sanity was broken by the mad hunt for the Nosferatu, and the sarcophagus. The baron gets her a ride for the mansion where the movie was set. She isn't stupid, he all but dragged her there himself.

As her ride speed down the road, she felt the energy of the mansion beyond her. It felt alive. A cat meows by the gate. She doesn't turn her head to look, but the small blur was stained with blood, and the feel from inside the mansion. She finds her way inside easily. It's a trap, she knows it, but there was nothing to do about it.

Inside, the walls are grotesquely pink. They move as if breathing. The sound those deformed creatures make is worse than the sight of then. The huffing, and panting. They're real. Real monsters. They try to claw at her, but she used lead filled bat that she had acquired to make past them. The curse of her new life gave her enough strength to crush the skulls of those things. It was gruesome work, but it was a work she could do.

But as things are, nothing is easy or simple. She follows the path from which they emerge, and goes for the basement. There, is something different, the eye of the storm, the origin of all the magic impregnated into the walls of the mansion. She was sure that she felt them all the way across Hollywood. That thing makes her think of Strauss. Old magic.

She descends the stairs slowly, their eyes an eerie yellow glow that follow her every move. They waited for her to be on equal footing, and only when she reluctantly lowers her bat that they acknowledge her.

"What is that...smell?" such a voice for a monster. Soft and raspy. The voice of one used to luring unsuspecting victims to their trap. "Cursed Tremere."

She gasps at that. Loud enough to interrupt their line of thought. A frown twisting that monstrous face, which seemed impossible. That spiked head looked almost sculpted in granite, carefully crafted.

"Do I frighten you? Is my knowledge of you unnerving?" They make as if to step closer to her, and it's what she needed to snap out of it.

"I'm sorry for intruding in your house." good manners were drilled into her relentlessly, so even in face of dismemberment, she clung to them. She knew it wouldn't work on them. The gargoyle was a different case. Politeness have never saved her from punishment, but they always softened the blow. So she smiles in greeting, right before one of those creatures scurries past her legs and she jumps back to the stairs, only to pull back in fright as her hand make contact with the clammy texture of the banister. The sound of amused laughter is unexpected, but more welcome than the sound of those creatures' breathing.

"Oh young child of Caine, this is not my house. The sights in this haven pale in comparison to my ancestral state." Their face softens at her, a smile much sharper than any one she has seen, practically beacons her to approach them, but clenches her hand and ignores it. "Comfort… is a custom," they gesture to the banister and upwards, making her thing of the walls in the master bedroom. "and all of this artifice brings me closer to home. Do not fear my furniture, young one." _Fear me_. It is left unsaid, but somehow, that's the loudest part of that whole sentence.

"You're the one who made the tape, aren't you?" at the shadows, she sees the little creatures, watching and waiting, almost as if afraid of the bigger monster.

"Oh yes, the _tape_ " they laughed once more, this time the mirth reaches their eyes. "Merely a test. Certainly not intended for mortal eyes. Fortunately, it found its way to you." this time, they do step forward, tall and regal. She was no longer a trespasser, but a guest. "So did the tape drive you to find me? From whence flows your longing, childe?"

"I want sent to enquire about it. Nothing more." there is something stuck in her throat. She swallows, but it doesn't go away. The way they spoke to her made her uncomfortable, weary. "Quite a lot of people have tasked me with finding what is it all about."

Their face twist into a frown once more, as they step even closer to her. They stop an arm's length away, but she swears she can feel claws at her hands.

"This won't do, young one." she flexes her hands, as if shaking the phantom touch, and it doesn't work. "Even Tremere filthy can impress me. And you have quite the presence." Closer and closer. His actual hands reach for her slowly, and she is frozen in trepidation, fear. Long claws reach to adjust the collar of her shirt, and they don't faint modesty as they look down her cleavage in appraisal. "Such potential. So much to mold and explore." the amulet in her neck practically burns her. It's incredibly hot against her skin, as if warning her of danger, screaming at her.

"I am flattered. But I am here on business." in spite it all, she smiles at them once more. Her neck strained as she looked up their horned chin. They step away then, slowly, as a show of who is in control of this whole freak show.

"How pitiful" their arms open, gesturing to the stained walls, a truly disappointed look on their face. "I hope we can meet again, young once. Maybe for pleasure, next time."

All at once, their body seam to cover in thick viscous blood, as it melts to the ground. She tries to reach for them, but they vanish, and all the smaller creatures advance on her. She screams in surprise as she feels the heat behind her, and sees the burning stairs. She knows the mansion is being engulfed in flames. Fear claws at her heart, and she swears she can hear their laughter as she bashes the assailing monsters with her forgotten bat.

There is little she can do, but move forward, fighting the onslaught as she makes her way through a heavy set of doors and down a tunnel. She fucking hated Hollywood and how everything was always too much in that infernal town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that as a video game character, Andrei is supposed to feed us information. But I refuse to write him as an exposition machine. So have the old money kind of confidend that only an imortal monster is capable of having.
> 
> Also, I wrote this because now I have the excuse to write a parallel fic where Andrei raws the Neonate.


End file.
